


Baby, it's cold outside

by Buckysaur



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (or: brief occurrence of snow-throwing), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Badly Knit Beanies, Bunker Fluff, Castiel in the Bunker, Christmas Fluff, Christmas in the Bunker, Cute, Domestic Dean, Domestic Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hot Chocolate, Inappropriate Winter Clothes, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Mistletoe, Not really Christmas actually, Snowball Fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 04:29:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5483450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buckysaur/pseuds/Buckysaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has never shoveled snow before in his life, and had anyone asked him, his first guess would not have been that he’d enjoy doing so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby, it's cold outside

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chiyume](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiyume/gifts).



> For LienLien, because she worked on her school stuff that one time.

Dean has never shoveled snow before in his life, and had anyone asked him, his first guess would _not_ have been that he’d enjoy doing so. As he’s standing on the driveway, however, pushing heap after heap of snow out of Baby’s way, he’s finding the whole thing strangely reminiscent of that time he mowed his mother’s lawn. It hadn’t been real, of course, as he’d been stuck in the Djinn’s fantasy world, but it is still a memory he holds dear.

It is the simple domesticity of the fact that he has a house, a _home_ , and a garage with a driveway meant especially for his Baby. He likes taking care of the little family he has (or doesn’t quite have) — human or car or whatnot — and, similarly, he finds himself liking the task of shovelling snow.

What makes the task less enjoyable, however, is the freezing cold. Leather jackets, Dean has quickly found out, are not very appropriate snow-wear, and the fabric has turned cold and wet under the continuous onslaught of snow drifting down on him.

Had he announced his plans to shovel snow, Sam would no doubt have told him about this little fact. Sam would also, however, have _mocked_ him for wanting to shovel snow, so it isn’t a trade-off he would have been willing to make.

So he is enjoying the task. But also freezing his ass off.

Not that he is about to give up or anything. He is Dean Fucking Winchester. Monster hunter, nightmare of demons, vampires and werewolves alike. He isn’t about to give in to some frozen water. No, sir.

That doesn’t keep him from wondering if it’d be cheating to get Cas to melt the snow for him, however. Hypothermia will do that to a man. Just as he is running the pros and cons of asking for help (and what is the likelihood that Cas would tell Sam about his rather domestic extracurricular activities?) the bunker door opens with a screech and the head of the very angel he is thinking about peeks out from behind it.

Cas’ head. Covered in a bright red rather sloppily knit hat. Adorned with a giant blue fuzzy thing on the top. (Dean doesn’t know the words for these things, okay? He’s not into _crafts_.)

(But, seriously, whoever knit that hat could use a lesson or two. That double seed stitch is the worst Dean has ever seen. Or whatever. Not like Dean would know.)

While Dean stares at Cas and his hat, Cas stares back at him and his shovel. Dean tries to appear gruff and manly and generally not-freezing. (It doesn’t help that his teeth are chattering, and he is pretty sure his lips are more blue than pink.)

Cas’ hand peeks out from behind the door as well then, and _holy shit is that hot chocolate?_

Then Cas’ other hand appears too and honest-to-God flaps over the mug as if to waft the scent in Dean’s direction and that is just _unfair_. Dean is trying to get work done over here, but he is pretty sure he could smell _rum_ in there and is that _cinnamon_?! Jesus. This kind of temptation is way beyond his pay-grade.

Cas is looking at him with a smug little smile on his face like he knows just what he is doing to Dean and oh, it is _on_.

He drops his shovel and throws a handful of snow at him. It is the only logical reaction, really. Not even a snowball, just a big handful of loose snow right in Cas’ stupid face and stupid beanie and it isn’t like Cas looks super cute when he’s covered in little bits of snow or anything.

When Dean steps closer to steal the mug, he can see the little bits of snow in Cas’ lashes as the angel blinks up at him, and damn. _Damn_. Suddenly the contents of the mug don’t seem like the tastiest thing in the vicinity at all anymore.

“You get me something?” Dean teases, cupping Cas’ cheek with his absolutely freezing fingers. He can feel the wetness of melting snowflakes on Cas’ skin as the heat of it seeps into his own.

Cas shudders, his eyes narrowing into slits. Dean can see each individual lash, and it makes his heart beat faster, flushes his own cheeks with barely-there heat trying to fight the winter temperature. “Your hand is far below ideal skin-temperature. You should probably invest in snow-gear if you plan on doing this more often.”

A slow, predatory grin spreads over Dean’s face. “Well, I could do that, but then you wouldn’t have an excuse to warm me up, would you?” His free hand goes to cup Cas’ around the steaming mug, and the heat there, too, is blissful.

Cas is like a beacon of warmth in the cold. Sometimes Dean thinks he remembers heat enveloping him in hell, just before he got out, and he wonders if what he remembers is Cas, embracing him and dragging him out of the pit. He shudders at the memory, and forces himself back into the _now_.

“Not like you need an excuse, I hope,” he adds, and he isn’t sure _why_ , but he knows he needs Cas to understand that. Dean will take him any day. He doesn’t need an excuse anymore, not like he used to. He’s no longer afraid. Left that particular closet a while back.

“I know I don’t,” Cas says, and the words are a promise. Dean can’t help but smile. “Come inside,” the angel continues. “I believe Sam and Kevin hung mistletoe in the kitchen doorway. We might need to check it out. You know, review its structural integrity. I wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt if it falls down.”

He says the words so seriously, like he doesn’t even know the meaning of ‘innuendo,’ and, fuck, this is why Dean loves him. This is the man he loves.

He slips the mug from Cas’ hands and takes a careful sip. The liquid is hot, but not scalding, and it warms his mouth and insides comfortably. “Right, we should probably check that out, for, uh, building safety,” he agrees, grinning. He doesn’t have Cas’ pokerface. Wouldn’t even _want_ it. It suits Cas the best. He drops his hand from Cas’ face and tangles their fingers together. “Shall we?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This just sort of happened and completely derailed from the fic I was intending it to be. Oh well.
> 
> My first Supernatural fic! Please let me know what you think <3


End file.
